6760 miles
by omegatrinity
Summary: USUK. Alfred flies home from Japan.


It was, hands down, the longest flight Alfred had ever been on. He was exaggerating a little, of course, because visiting Japan always took between 11-14 hours depending on conditions. But after the first fifteen minutes the person in front of him, having the emergency exit row, felt it absolutely necessary to recline their chair into his knees making his already limited leg room all the more cramped. After watching Bride Wars twice, Underworld once, he prayed his DS would last the rest of the trip, it was only, what? Another 8 hours? Out of luck and out of distractions, Alfred had no choice but to concentrate wholly on how he couldn't sleep and how he could no longer feel his knees.

Alfred grinds his teeth and watches the tiny plane on the screen in front of him tell him where on the planet he is. It feels like the plane hasn't moved, like they've been suspended in a strange obscure hell where he has to sit for hours crunched into a tiny seat wishing he was back in New York and with no iPod battery. He gives the person's seat in front of him a quick shove with his knees but, with no response, goes back to staring angrily at the nothing out his window.

The text -email, because his phone didn't work in Japan- said "What time do expect to be back?" As if Arthur had cared at all. The signature was his full name, making the email sound painfully formal. _It would be most convenient if you would inform me of your time of arrival. Signed, Arthur Kirkland. _ Maybe he should've been less annoyed but he'd been in customs for over an hour and Arthur sending a formal request of his touch down time was frustrating. Alfred had closed the message in annoyance, the charms he'd bought while he was visiting Kiku ringing irritably as he chucked the phone back in his bag. The Japanese families around him stared at him awkwardly.

It wasn't until he was boarding the plane, suddenly relieved he wasn't standing in the baggage check line or the customs line or _any_ line that would only lead to more waiting that he wrote Arthur back: "Around midnight" he didn't bother to sign it.

Of course the view outside the window was a whole lot of nothing, they literally sailed through a white expanse of cloud, no sky, no sun, Alfred thought he would go crazy. Thoughts strayed to Arthur who would, if anything, left a message on his machine saying to call him to make sure he'd gotten home safe. Like he'd call! He wasn't a kid anymore!

But even after the formal email and Alfred's annoyed and short response, he couldn't help why Arthur cared at all. Unless he was taking the first flight to New York, an 8 hour flight, and waiting for him at his, locked, home...he didn't see why it mattered. Alfred spends the rest of the flight trying -and failing- to sleep and watching his travel progress on the screen in front of him.

There's a layover in DC. A five. Hour. Layover. Alfred gets off the plane and _wishes_ he was just...home. Although he appreciates the English that fills the air around him, the familiar smells and the announcements of departures in arrivals. Alfred spends another hour in customs only to come out on the other side and find that his flight's been cancelled. He wants to cry, was this a joke? He prayed for a camera crew to come out from one of the gates and laugh in his face. Even _he'd_ appreciate that! He rummages through his backpack to find his phone and, pulling it out with an added air of triumph turns it on.

It turns off again.

There was no way. Alfred fights the urge to chuck the phone at a nearby attendant -one who had given him lip when he asked about the cancellation in the first place. He rushes, totally not panicked, to a nearby pay phone. Finding his wallet he realizes he's forgotten one crucial stop on his way through customs.

Currency exchange.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Alfred yells at the pay phone, fishing through yen in hopes that he'd find at least _one_ quarter... and dials Arthur collect.

Arthur answers irritably, "You'd better have a proper reason for charging me." He says and accepts the charges, and Alfred cries jumbled and panicked phrases into Arthur's ear. Arthur understands 'no change' and 'cancelled flight' and puts the pieces together. Alfred can hear Arthur chuckle through the receiver and does_ not_ see the humor in the situation. He whines considerably less after Arthur informs him that they called _him_ when they couldn't reach Alfred and that they'd rerouted him, his bags had already gone ahead.

Alfred whimpers a relieved "Thank you…" into the phone and hangs up just in time to hear Arthur's goodbye.

It sounded like a low and begrudging, _I can't wait to see you_. Alfred picks up the phone again just to frown at it, he was probably just imagining things. All the lines and waiting and things that had gone wrong were probably just getting to him. He runs to his gate.

Another long plane ride and Alfred prays nothing goes wrong, hopes that his streak of bad luck doesn't take the plane down in flames or-

"Sorry sir, the flight's closed." He turns sharply to the woman at the counter giving him a look that says _Oh, just try me, I've been standing here for hours_. He hears a voice that sounds familiar say something about it being unfair and that some of them had been here on time. The woman at the counter continues to yell at everyone in line and Alfred returns to the pay phone.

He wishes he could say he didn't cry, but after a day of traveling and thinking he'd get home he finds himself stuck in his own capital. He can't decide if he's more mortified about crying to Arthur over the phone or crying in public. It's a little bit of both. Arthur does his best to say the right thing but Alfred can't hear him over his own distressed voice.

A hand touches his shoulder and Alfred jumps.

"Oh, _America_…" It's a thick European accent, "I did not mean to _startle_ you." He smiles and Alfred suddenly recognizes the tilt of the head and calm smile through blurry eyes.

Francis. He tells England he'll call him later and hangs up.

"You are so distressed, _cher_." Francis says and Alfred notices that he looks tired and a little more irritated than he normally sees him, "Let's get this sorted out, hm?" Alfred follows Francis reluctantly.

"What're you doing here, France?" Alfred says while they wait in yet _another_ line, they'll both have to spend the night in Washington D.C. Francis gives Alfred a mildly offended look but shrugs it off and flips his hair slightly, albeit a little sluggishly. Francis' charm seems to be a little lacking tonight, Alfred notes.

"I had a, ah, meeting." He replies stumbling over the English word for _meeting_. Alfred wonders vaguely if by 'meeting' Francis really means 'lay.'

"Don't give me that look." Francis continues and Alfred snaps out of his thoughts, "I was on my way back to Paris." He finishes and Francis motions to the desk. "Go ahead, America, I'll wait."

Alfred reroutes his flight and Francis informs him that they'll be flying together, he had a layover in JFK. Alfred is somewhat relieved that Francis is there to accompany him. Especially because he seems too tired to be his usual self. Alfred's elated that he doesn't have to bother fending off Francis' advances tonight. It's the first time in his life that Alfred's _actually_ thought of Francis as the "older brother" he was always going on about and not just a perverted sex-addict with weird taste in food.

The two touch down in New York and Francis kisses Alfred on both cheeks as they part ways. Francis is back to his old self and Alfred slaps his hand as he moves in to touch him. Francis waves with a sing-song _Adieu!_ And disappears from sight.

He knows better than to run. Alfred's never been so happy to see his own flag and the familiar ads and shops that line the airport, he's winded quickly but ignores it as he reaches a sign that says _Baggage Claim_ and points him in the right direction. Alfred's not sure he's ever run so fast in his life.

Standing near his carousel, arms folded and looking anxiously at his watch is Arthur. He looks up and worriedly looks around and Alfred holds back a yell before booking it toward him. As he gets closer, Alfred launches himself into the other man, giving Arthur enough time to let out a _very dignified_ yelp before being hit full force by a slightly overweight American.

Alfred can't stop himself from pulling Arthur's face into his own in a somewhat awkward and forceful kiss. Arthur pushes at his chest until Alfred lets go, their lips part noisily and the people around them give them disapproving looks or continue about their business. Alfred's never been so happy to see Arthur in his life.

"I suppose I should know better… letting you travel by yourself." Arthur says disapprovingly, face a deep red, as he turns away from Alfred and Alfred leans in and smiles.

"Did you miss me?" He puts his hands in his pockets.

"O-Of course not." He tugs Alfred downward by the collar of his jacket, pushes his bangs out of the way and kisses him on the forehead.

"Welcome back." Arthur says in Japanese. He'd called Kiku and asked what he should say to Alfred when he gets back and although Kiku hadn't really given him a straight answer, he'd mentioned that this was standard for people returning home.

Alfred laughs in response and after a while says, "Your accent's so bad." Arthur knows Alfred's can't be any better. He makes an indignant grunt when Alfred wraps his arms enthusiastically around him.

"I missed you, Arthur." He says and Arthur can hear the smile in his voice.

"I missed you too."


End file.
